


Before Dawn

by EarlGreyWardens



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Romance, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 16:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarlGreyWardens/pseuds/EarlGreyWardens
Summary: Early morning cuddles with a side of sensuality. Because why not?





	Before Dawn

The hour is late when the flickering candle on the bedside table finally snuffs out, sending up a ghostly whisper of smoke. It reminds you of bonfire embers; countless nights spent sleeping on an uneven bedroll under the stars, longing for the comforts of Skyhold.

The nostalgic scent seems to envelop you as your eyes adjust to the darkness of Cullen's private quarters. If you look closely, you can scarcely make out the familiar silhouettes of rumpled cloth and hastily-discarded armor forming a haphazard trail from the upper landing to the foot of the bed. The sight sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Memories from just a few short hours ago ripple to the forefront of your mind, though they seem so distant in the twilight hours of the morning. The thought brings a smile to your lips. It doesn't seem to matter how many nights you spend together. The quiet moments that followed always felt hazy, like a dream you were likely to forget upon waking. Fortunately, your Commander was always there when you woke up, and if that wasn't enough to convince you of his presence in your life, the well-earned ache in your muscles _was_.

No sooner do your reflections have you entranced than a chilling wind howls through the Frostbacks. The unforgiving weather is just another thing you haven't gotten quite used to. Even now, late in the summer months, the cold bit at your fingers and turned your nose a rosy shade of pink. Teeth chattering, you mutter a soft curse and draw the blankets up around your shoulders, casting a resentful glare at the broken beams in the roof above your head. There had been talk of repairs for weeks, but there were always more pressing matters to attend to.

Cullen didn't seem to mind. Though even at his best, he wasn't the deepest sleeper.

He stirs in bed beside you when another gust of wind fills the small space, inhaling sharply through his nose. His eyes remain closed as he reaches a hand up and rakes his fingers back through a mess of dark blonde curls. He pauses there a moment, looking like a marble statue with his handsome features bathed in pale blue light. His expression is stoic, yet peaceful. The desire to trace his profile with the tip of your finger is tempting, but he seems to find his purpose again before you can make your move.

His voice is scarcely more than a low rumble in his chest as he turns to face you. "Come 'ere," he commands, sounding distinctly Ferelden in his groggy state. His usual sense of propriety has no place in the contented silence that follows. It only takes a moment for his toned body to close in around yours like a custom fit. It's so easy to accommodate him when he reaches for you with a strong arm, drawing you in until you can feel his broad chest rising and falling against your back.

 _Maker,_ even when he's half asleep, his effect on you is profound.

His touch is possessive when he places a rough palm against your sternum and drags his fingers south, reveling in the touch of your skin until his hand comes to rest on the soft, pliable flesh of your hip. The lightest gasp passes through your lips, and you swear you can feel his breath quicken for just a moment before he relaxes against you, trailing his thumb affectionately along your thigh.

"Cullen," you breathe, but he doesn't respond with words. Not just yet.

Instead, he presses his lips to the back of your neck and leads a trail of slow, languid kisses to the shallow dip of your shoulder. His stubble grazes your skin as he maps his way up to claim the curve of your jaw.

Cullen's scent surrounds you like a cloak. Leather and oakmoss, mingled with the clean whisper of elderflower blossoms and the heady spice of a soap he'd acquired on a tip from Dorian. It clings to his hair and on his skin, and now it's just as much a part of you.

He feels you shiver when his lips find the spot just below your ear, and you can feel the softest twitch of a smile against your skin as he murmurs your name, low and sweet. There's so much warmth in his golden eyes when you circle around to face him. His hand finds the small of your back as he gazes down at you with half-lidded hues.

He's spoken of his love for you so many times. He's whispered it during your stolen moments on the battlements. He's cursed it through gritted teeth as he loses himself in your body. He's shouted it in the throes of a heated argument. He's even detailed his affections in tactfully-written letters to his relatives in Honnleath.

There's something to be said, however, about the way he looks at you now. The way his hand glides up to cup your face as he tenderly presses his forehead to yours. The way his eyes fall blissfully shut as you place a kiss on the scar above his lip. The way his fingers find a place beneath your chin, angling you towards him. It's intoxicating, and he doesn't have to say a thing.

When the first of morning's light begins to shine through the roof and he captures your mouth with his, you know Cullen is unreservedly _yours_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing; all rights go to the respective owners and creators.


End file.
